


we both go down together

by meretricula



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Blow Job, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-20
Updated: 2009-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 18:54:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meretricula/pseuds/meretricula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rafa doesn't like being alone. Nole makes sure he doesn't have to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we both go down together

**Author's Note:**

> takes place after both Nole and Rafa crashed out in the quarters in Montreal '09.

Rafa tried not to feel hurt that Nole wasn't waiting for him after the match. He'd lost - well, they'd both lost - but it wasn't the end of the world. They'd lost before, would again, although hopefully they'd make it past the quarters next time. Novak wasn't obligated to stick around the locker room just because Rafa kind of wanted at least a kiss or preferably a blowjob out of this mess of a day before he packed up and flew to Cincinnati so they could start all over again.

He showered quickly, said good-night and good luck to Juan Martin and then it was time to answer stupid questions yet again. He'd missed tennis like an amputated limb every waking moment while his knees were getting better, but he had not missed pressers for a _second_, and he was almost tired and disappointed enough not to care if the journalists knew it. His mother had taught him better than to be rude to strangers, though, so he put up with it and was determinedly positive about things as well as he could, and finally he could collect Xisca, who was only slightly bored out of her mind waiting for him, and go back to the hotel.

"Okay?" she asked in the car.

"Yeah, I guess," he sighed, and she didn't complain about him resting his head on her shoulder until the ride was over, even though his hair was wet. She was texting one-handed for most of the way, but he was deeply grateful for her other arm around his back, reminding him that he wasn't actually alone. Xisca was such a _good_ girl, he thought muzzily. He wondered whether he could get Maribel to come with her next time to keep her company. He knew she got bored, and missed home and her family and Maria, and he missed Maria too: it would be a good solution.

He was going to ask if Xisca thought it was a good idea, except his tongue felt like taffy and his eyelids didn't want to open, and someone was shaking his shoulder gently, saying, "Rafa, we're here. Can you get up?"

"No," he mumbled, but then his pillow moved and it was get up or fall over, so he climbed out of the car after Xisca. He hated night matches; somehow he was always more worn out afterwards, even though it wasn't nearly as hot.

"Come on, sweetheart," Xisca said. She was smiling at him, which was good: he liked Xisca a lot, but he didn't understand her even a little bit, and he had no idea what he would say to make things better if she were annoyed or unhappy that he'd dragged her all the way to Canada so she could watch him lose. She didn't have to be there, after all. She didn't have to do a lot of the things she did for him.

"Thank you," he told her, very sincerely. She laughed.

"You're welcome, Rafa, but seriously, come on. You need to go to bed." Xisca took his hand and led him through the lobby, into the elevator, and down the hall to their suite. Rafa was happy just to let someone else be in charge, and he trusted Xisca more than almost anyone: he followed her gratefully, eyes still half-shut and most of his attention concentrated on keeping his racket bag from falling off his shoulder. She got the door open while he was still fumbling in his pockets for his key-card, and a metaphorical and literal weight lifted as he finally put down his racket bag.

"Xisca," he said, when she left him by the door and headed into the living room area. She glanced back at him, quizzical, and he managed to squash his embarrassment long enough to ask, "Would you sleep with me?"

He hated being alone most of the time, but he couldn't stand being by himself when he lost. It wasn't something he was proud of, but he wasn't really ashamed of it either: it was just that he didn't like asking Xisca for things, when she already did so much. But he knew he wouldn't sleep well on his own, and Xisca was there and she knew him; she wouldn't misunderstand.

She hesitated. "I want to check my email," she said at last. "Go on, I'll be there soon."

"Thank you," he said quietly. Her smile tilted oddly as she turned away again. He was already taking off his T-shirt as he went into his bedroom, and pulled up short when he got it over his head, because he wasn't _that_ tired: there was definitely someone in his bed.

"Hey," Nole said, taking off his headphones. Rafa could faintly hear the weird Serbian pop music Novak liked to listen to still spilling out of them.

"Hey," he replied, a little blankly. "Nole, what you do here?"

Novak shrugged, his cheeks going pink, but he met Rafa's gaze steadily. "I thought - I didn't want you to be alone, you know? I can go, if you want."

"No!" Rafa said immediately. "No, I no want you go, is just - how you even _get_ here?"

Novak looked faintly puzzled. "I called you, but your phone was off, so I texted Xisca and she got me a key. I was - I mean, I'd lost already anyway," which made feel Rafa feel abruptly guilty and selfish; he wasn't the only person who hadn't made it to the semifinals, for god's sake. "I didn't mind hanging around."

Rafa sat beside Novak and sort of clumsily reached out to touch his hair. He wasn't good with this kind of thing - he could say things with his body on the tennis court, but not in a hotel bedroom, and words were always hopeless. "Sorry for make you wait," he tried anyway. "How your match go?"

It was the worst possible thing to say, he realized a moment later, but Novak just laughed and pushed back into his hand. "Andy played good, I played like crap. I'll try again in Cincy, you know?"

"Okay," Rafa said. It maybe _wasn't_ okay; Novak had been playing - not badly, exactly, but not well, ever since Madrid. He didn't know what to say or do to make it better, though, even if it was maybe partly his fault, and he couldn't _make_ Novak care about how he was playing.

Novak turned his head to look at him more carefully. "You are okay, right?" he asked. His expression was serious again.

"For sure," Rafa reassured him, and managed a smile. "Tired, no? But happy for see you. I no think I gonna before Cincy, is all."

"I wouldn't leave you by yourself," Novak said with a frown. "Rafa, of course I wouldn't. Not after - you know."

Rafa did know, was the thing. Nole knew he didn't like to be alone when he lost, so he had come as a matter of course to make sure someone would be with him. It had taken Rafa a while to figure out, but underneath all the jokes, Novak _cared_ about people more fiercely than anyone else he knew. It was a unique and selfishly wonderful experience to have someone put him first, but Rafa worried lately that it was dragging Nole down with him. "I know," he agreed, and kissed Novak, because that was something that not even they could manage to misunderstand.

Novak made a startled noise against his mouth, then relaxed and pulled Rafa closer, sliding both hands into his hair. "How do you want this?" he murmured. "Anything you want, Rafa, you know I'll give it to you."

"I no think, I no know, I," Rafa stammered, and kissed Novak again, harder. "Is not - "

"Shh, shh, it's okay," Novak said, drawing back a little and bringing one of his hands back around to gently touch Rafa's cheek. The look in his eyes was frighteningly intense. "I know, don't worry." He pressed his lips to the corner of Rafa's mouth once, twice, then without further preamble slid off the bed and sank to his knees.

Rafa inhaled sharply, feeling his cock stiffen in his shorts. "Novak," he said helplessly. There weren't words for what he wanted to tell him, the way his chest felt lighter when he saw Novak, how Novak made him smile even when he was tired and everything hurt, the fact that Novak could turn him on just by looking at him sometimes. Novak grinned up at him and tugged on his waistband, which didn't help him gather his scattered wits. "You no have to," he managed, while he shifted his weight to let Novak finish pulling his shorts and underwear off.

"Oh?" Novak sat back, still smiling wickedly. "You don't want me to suck your cock, Rafa? Because I've been thinking about it all week. Cornering you in the locker room showers, both of us wet and slick and soapy, and getting on my knees. I'd suck you off so hard and fast you'd have to hang on to keep from falling over. Maybe somebody wonders what the hell that weird squeaky noise you make is and comes to look, and you have to pretend I didn't just blow you - but if you don't want me to, okay," he added with a shrug. "Whatever you want, you know."

"Hijo de puta," Rafa hissed. He wanted Novak's mouth, so suddenly and so badly he was almost light-headed. "Please, Nole."

"Please what?"

Rafa had no idea how Novak could look innocent while kneeling between his spread thighs, inches away from his bare cock, but somehow he was pulling it off. "Please _suck me_," he gritted out.

Novak's eyes widened - he hadn't expected that, Rafa thought with fleeting satisfaction - and he swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "Anything you want," he repeated softly. He was blushing faintly as he leaned forward and took Rafa's cock in his mouth.

Rafa immediately made one of the high-pitched sounds that Novak loved to tease him about, and bit his lip in an attempt to stifle any more. Novak was laughing at him, inasmuch as that was possible with a mouthful of dick; mostly it was just the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, but Rafa could still tell. "Ass," he grumbled, and stroked Novak's hair.

Novak hummed in amusement around him and pushed his knees further apart, pressing forward until he was nosing the coarse dark hair at the base of Rafa's cock. Rafa held very still, forcibly resisting the urge to thrust up into Nole's mouth. Novak was tracing patterns on his inner thighs, light movements with clipped nails, and it _tickled_; in revenge, Rafa pressed his foot to Novak's crotch, flexing his toes against the obvious hardness of his erection, and relished the choked noise that followed. Novak came up spluttering. "Rafa!"

"You say me, anything I want, no?" Rafa said, watching Novak closely. "I want you touch yourself."

It was hard to catch Novak off-balance, but when he could manage it, it was beautiful: Novak stared at him, lips parted and wet, and slowly, visibly realized that he'd lost the upper hand. "So, what, I should stop - " he asked.

"You need your mouth for jerk off?" Rafa raised an eyebrow at him, quietly gleeful with the knowledge that he was going to win this time. "Suck me, touch yourself." Rafa felt Novak's cock twitch under his toes.

Novak took a deep breath, then let it out and rested his cheek for a moment against Rafa's thigh, where the skin was soft and still pale. "Anything you want," he said once again, and met Rafa's eyes before he eased his shorts down and wrapped a hand around his own cock. "I fucking hate you sometimes," he moaned as he stroked himself. "You're such a fucking tease."

"Slower," Rafa ordered. In the back of his mind, he could still barely believe he was saying this, _doing_ this: Nole pushed him to go further no matter what they did together, but as frightening as that could be, the triumph of getting to that drop shot - or watching Novak almost swallow his tongue when Rafa managed to say something suggestive without stuttering - was absolutely worth it. "Let me see."

"Motherfuck," Novak muttered, but he obeyed. Rafa just watched for a little while, distracted by the steady slide of Novak's fingers up and down and the quiet whining noise he made in the back of his throat when he twisted his fist at the end of a stroke. Eventually, though, the throbbing in his groin became almost unbearable, and he pulled Novak gently forward by the hair to finish what he'd started.

Novak didn't bother with teasing this time; he took Rafa as deep and fast as he could and swallowed hard around him. Rafa felt himself teetering on the edge, and determinedly held back. "Novak," he said, as calmly as could be expected under the circumstances. He concentrated on the pain in his right hip, where Novak's nails were digging in. "I want you come for me now."

Nole gulped and pulled back a few inches, and then he came all over his hand, as if all he'd been waiting for was permission. Rafa watched his face twist into an expression only an idiot could have possibly found attractive, and Rafa was apparently an idiot, because that was what finally pushed him over.

When he opened his eyes, semen was streaked across Novak's face, and his softening cock gave one last, defiant twitch at the sight. "I hate you _so much_, you jackass," Nole complained. "Ugh, I think you got some in my _eyelashes_. What the fuck." Rafa laughed, and leaned forward to lick the come off Novak's cheek. It was so _Novak_ to fuss thirty seconds after an orgasm. Rafa hoped he would never change. "I'm getting a washcloth," Nole announced, and vanished into the bathroom. Rafa lay back on the bed; the room was starting to spin around him.

"Mother of god, you are fucking useless," he heard Novak say some indefinable amount of time later. He tried to protest, but all that came out was an inarticulate mumble. Time went oddly elastic again, and then Novak was curling up behind him, tangling their legs together and pulling him in close with an arm across his chest.

The next thing Rafa was aware of was light falling across his face from an open door, and Xisca's voice somewhere beyond it. "You gonna stay?" she asked, and he couldn't quite understand why; where would he be going?

"I have to leave early," Nole said quietly. "I wake you up when I go, okay?"

"Okay," she said, and shut the door, leaving the bedroom completely dark again. Novak pressed a kiss into Rafa's hair, and his breathing slowly evened out into the steady rhythm of sleep. Rafa drifted off again, secure in the knowledge that Novak was with him, and he was not alone.


End file.
